


An Intimate Moment

by 221cbakerstreet



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is a bastard, Dirty Talk?, First Kiss, For Crowley at least, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221cbakerstreet/pseuds/221cbakerstreet
Summary: A little extra tidbit of everyone's favorite scene. Crowley really, really likes being told how bad he is. Aziraphale wishes he knew this a few millennia earlier.





	An Intimate Moment

“You know, Crowley, I’ve always said that, deep down, you really are quite a nice-”  
  
Aziraphale knew that the words had been a mistake before they left his mouth. He was only trying to get a rise out of the demon, some playful banter, but _clearly_ Crowley was already on edge about the whole “misplacing the antichrist” business and, well… Aziraphale never could leave well enough alone.  
  
Within moments, he was pressed up hard and fast against the wall, Crowley’s body veritably _snaking_ against his own, all lithe muscle and sinew. Hands were fisted in Aziraphale’s collar, holding him firmly in place, and he didn’t know if Crowley’s face had been quite _that_ close to his in some millennia.  
  
Aziraphale gulped. He really had to learn to stop getting himself into these messes.  
  
“Shut it.” Crowley growled, and Aziraphale could feel the hot breath ghosting against his lips. “I’m a demon. I’m not nice, I’m never nice.” Aziraphale scanned the demon’s eyes beneath his glasses- they were flashing, amber-gold, pupils barely a sliver. “Nice is a four letter word,” Crowley continued, “I will not-”  
  
“Excuse me, gentlemen?” A woman’s voice broke through, reminding Aziraphale that there _was_ in fact still a world going on outside his little sphere. “Hate to break up an intimate moment-"  
  
Crowley snapped his fingers, never taking his eyes from Aziraphale’s, never otherwise moving an inch. The woman froze in place. He opened his mouth to continue, but seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say next.  
  
“Fine.” Aziraphale sighed, his tone half exasperated, half conciliatory. “Of course. You’re truly evil. Completely _diabolical_.”  
  
Aziraphale did _not_ expect to see Crowley’s eyes widen at the words, then half lid themselves behind their frames. He did not expect the almost imperceptible shudder that went through Crowley, a sensation that he may not even have felt had the demon not been standing so close. He certainly did not expect for Crowley, with a tiny twitch of his mouth, to _bite down ever so slightly on his bottom lip_ at the words.  
  
Oh. _Oh_.  
  
Aziraphale grinned. He licked his lips.  
  
“You’re the most wicked creature I’ve ever met.” He whispered, his voice growing thicker. “Depraved. Sinister. An absolute _fiend_.”  
  
Crowley groaned audibly, his eyelids falling all the way closed. When he opened them, the pupils had dilated to the point where they were almost black, with a faint corona of gold brushing their edges. Aziraphale tipped his head forward ever so slightly, so that his lips just barely brushed Crowley’s with every word.  
  
“Vile.” He whispered, feeling the demon squirm against him, fists tightening on his collar. “Despicable.” He dared to run his tongue along Crowley’s bottom lip. “ _Sinful_.”  
  
Crowley closed what short distance there was between them in an instant. The kiss was hard, fast, desperate. Full of want. Aziraphale’s hands shot to Crowley’s hips, and he attacked his lips with a fervor of his own. One of the demon's hands moved from his collar to his neck, just tight enough to make him gasp. He felt Crowley's lips pull into a smirk against his, as a deft tongue curled its way into his mouth. His breath hitched. Crowley _could_ do really weird things with his tongue. Aziraphale let his eyes fall closed and lost himself to the sensation of finally, finally tasting Crowley, of claiming him and being claimed by him. He mewled into Crowley’s lips and was rewarded with a taut thigh edging between his legs. Aziraphale couldn’t help it. He threw his head back and _moaned_. Crowley took the opportunity to attack what little skin was exposed beneath his collar, licking and sucking and-  
  
Aziraphale let out an entirely un-angelic sound when Crowley’s teeth met his flesh. He twisted a hand up to snake through Crowley’s hair, willing him closer, willing him not to stop, never stop.  
  
Glass shattered, and a stray bullet entered the wall inches from Aziraphale’s head. He gasped, and Crowley pulled away, shocked. For what seemed like an endless moment, they both stood there, flushed and panting, each waiting for the other to break the silence. Crowley ran a hand through his hair, only serving to make it messier in an effort to regain some of his composure. Shyly, slyly, Aziraphale twined his fingers through Crowley’s. Their eyes met.  
  
“Corrupting an angel?” He asked, grinning. He rubbed a thumb across Crowley’s knuckles. “That’s positively _obscene_.” Crowley licked his lips like a predator circling its prey.  
  
“You’ll have to show me what other lecherous ideas you have up your sleeve.” He twined his hand up Crowley’s wrist, ducking slightly beneath the fabric. Then he pulled away, sighing.  
  
“After we find a way to clear up this whole mess with the apocalypse, of course.” He finished, with a wistful smile.  
  
Crowley _hissed_.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I might want to continue this into full-blown sexytimes territory. Depends on if y'all like it enough.


End file.
